rainbow wings
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: "He's got rainbow wings on his back, and somehow he's learnt to fly." :: HarryDraco


_For Sam - I hope you like it! :)_

* * *

It covers the entire expanse of his back, intricate lines and colours swirling together to form an exquisite pair of angel wings, painted in with every shade of the rainbow. Sometimes, when the light hits it at just the right angle, they look like they're ready to rise up out of his back and give him the ability to take flight.

Most days, he can't help but wish that it were possible.

* * *

It hurts to get it done. Healing ability doesn't matter, not with this – and neither does his ability to withstand pain.

But then, he supposes the pain _is_ the point. It's a twofold memory – both the high cost of happiness, and the fact that the cost is almost always worth it, is etched into his back.

Because he doesn't regret it. Getting it done – it hurt. But given the chance, he knows he'd do it all over again.

* * *

He meets Harry Potter again nearly five years after leaving Hogwarts, the memory of Voldemort and the war fixed rooted firmly in his past. He's spent the last few years in France, having been driven out of London by people haunted by the ghosts of the war.

He can't say they weren't justified in hating him, but he's never been good at taking things in his stride. The world looked for a scapegoat, and Draco was never going to allow himself to become one. France and Paris have never cared much about what happens in Britain – in the end, it was an obvious choice.

It may not be London, but it's a good place to be nonetheless. Unlike Britain, there's a high value placed on old lines in the country, and Draco, as a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, is so much more important than he can ever be in the country he's fled, and that's something he can appreciate.

It might not be the most popular thing in Britain anymore, but Draco's never been one to apologise for the person he is. He's a child of the world of high society, and he cannot see that changing any time soon.

* * *

For all that Britain hates him, Draco's a Malfoy and Slytherin. More than that, he was taught by some of the most cunning Death Eaters ever to live – he'd honestly be surprised if the British Ministry of Magic even knew a _quarter_ of their names. It takes him time, but in the end, it's easy enough to get back in the good books of the Prophet and the Quibbler, which, in turn, means that it doesn't take long for the good people of England to see him as a pathetic, victimised figure.

It's not an image he particularly relishes, but he needs to return to the country. If having his ego take a beating is what it takes, then he's willing to take the hurt. In the end, the profits far outweigh the losses.

Five years after he fled it, he returns to London on a sunny day.

He's planned for every eventuality – or, at least, that's what he thinks before he notices Harry Potter walking towards him.

* * *

He knows that Potter and his mother struck up a strange correspondence after the end of the war. Potter meets her often enough – he's the godfather to Draco's half-werewolf cousin, and now that mother's made up with his aunt, she's as unlikely to go long periods without seeing them as Potter is letting the child visit the Manor alone.

But more than that, they exchange letters on a weekly basis. There's nothing romantic there – if he didn't know better, he'd say that his mother had decided to take Potter in as a second child.

Then again, he's been away for five years. Perhaps that's exactly what his mother's done. After all, she's as much a Slytherin as him, and only a blind person would be able to miss that advantages associated with being close to Potter.

Despite his new-found tolerance of his family, however, the last thing Draco expects when Potter finally reaches him is a _smile_ from the man who was once his arch-rival.

"You took your own sweet time returning," he says, grinning, and Draco's struck by just how different he is from the being of anger and resentment he remembers from the first days after the end of the war.

Five years is a long time, and Draco's changed too, but definitely not so much. The lack of a wedding ring or a female Weasley is disconcerting, and suddenly, all he cares about is finding out exactly how Potter's changed in the years since he saw him last.

Draco's always been one for action, so he doesn't think twice about grabbing Potter's arm and side-along apparating him back to his wing at the Manor. France may have changed him, but he's still the person he's always been, and his impulsivity when it comes to Harry Potter is evidently unaltered.

* * *

"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" he asks Potter as soon as they land in the middle of his rooms. Potter looks unimpressed at his kidnapping, and some other time, Draco would have cared. But his burning curiosity is so much more important at the moment, and all he wants to hear is Potter's explanation for the way the world has obviously stopped spinning.

Harry Potter doesn't offer Draco Malfoy an unguarded smile out of the blue, like he's actually happy to see him. It's practically a fundamental rule of the universe.

"I grew up," Potter answers shortly, his smile fading as he says the words. "Five years is a long time to stay the same, Draco."

Once upon a time, that would have been an answer that was easy to accept. How long has Draco been waiting for Potter to grow up, if only so that he can find new ways of making his life hell? But now, it's rather unsatisfactory, for reasons even he doesn't understand. He needs to know more – he needs to know _everything_.

"Weasley and Granger?" he asks. There's a wealth of meaning hidden in those three words, but he knows that Potter can understand what he means easily enough. Arch-rivalry might have meant hatred, but it also meant being able to understand the other and anticipate his every move.

"At the Ministry," he answers, shrugging slightly. "I'm meeting them once they're done for the day."

He doesn't ask Potter why he's not with them, why he's not out battling the forces of darkness like the good little Auror everyone thought he would be. Like he said – he knows Potter better than that. The Boy Wonder might have believed that that was what would make him happy, but that had been when Voldemort was still loose. Now that the madman was dead, he'd be surprised if Potter had still chosen to be part of the Ministry's pet army.

"Why are you here?" he asks instead.

"When I last checked, _you_ were the one who kidnapped _me_ from the street, Draco. That's a question you should be asking yourself, not me," Potter replies, grinning cheekily. Not even Draco's best glare can stop him from smiling, though he does relent and give him an actual answer.

"I put our rivalry to rest a long time ago, Draco, after Hermione pointed out that the reason I was upset about you leaving the country had nothing to do with not being able to see you suffer and everything to do with not having someone to argue with. It turns out I actually _need_ an arch-rival in my life to keep me sane – who knew?"

Draco snorts. "All those years fighting against the Dark Lord seem to have warped you mind, Potter."

"I never denied that," Potter answers cheerfully. "But you have the answer you wanted."

After that, there's no getting rid of Potter until the end of the day. In truth, Draco doesn't mind it as much as he should have.

It seems Potter's right – five years _is_ a long time to stay the same, and somehow he managed to grow up without noticing it.

* * *

Potter – Harry – takes that day as an invitation to ingratiate himself in Draco's life. Soon, it's like there was never a time when the man wasn't annoying him and wondering just what he planned to do now that he had finally returned to Britain.

The worst part of it is that Draco doesn't really mind him – not like he should have, at least. When his father finds out – and that was an interesting afternoon, having Lucius Malfoy walking into the Manor to find his son being chased around the place by Harry Potter – the temper tantrum that results is impressive, even for him. His mother is more amused than anything, and Draco has a sneaking suspicion that she is glad for the odd friendship that had formed between the two of them.

Draco, more than anything, is confused.

He has spent the majority of his life being certain of one thing – Harry Potter and he will never be friends. At least, that's what he's believed until now.

Befriending Potter is enough for him to start questioning everything he believes in. And that's not counting the other things he's started to feel for the Gryffindor.

And worse – Potter's not Potter any longer. He's _Harry_ now, and that says just how much Draco's fallen better than anything else ever could.

He sometimes thinks that he should have stayed in France. At least there, he wasn't the mess of confusion and nerves and happiness and _fear_ (_what if Potter ever finds out_) that he is here.

He's not sure how much longer he can go on, feeling like this.

* * *

It all comes to a head barely three months after Harry decided to invade his life.

It's a regular day – at least, what passes for regular now – and he's in the middle of berating Harry for spectacularly idiotic decision to explore some the more…_unsavoury_ parts of the Manor. Even half a year ago, the thought would have been hilarious. Now, it's just another part of his routine.

Things are normal – at least, they are until Harry decides to shut him up mid-rant by inching closer and kissing him speechless. It's a rather good plan, all things considered – Draco's a bit too much in shock to react like he should, which includes further ranting.

But he's still Draco Malfoy, and there's nothing that fazes him for too long. It takes him a minute, but he manages to get his composure back, and braces himself to start a different rant-

And then Harry holds out his hand, and _smiles_ at him. It's so different than the one he'd offered three months ago, but in many ways, it's still the same.

They have a lot to talk about, he knows that, but suddenly, Draco's more than happy to wait. Somewhere in the middle of becoming friends and falling in what seems to be a lot like love, he's learnt to trust his onetime enemy – he's certain that they'll have the chance to have that conversation.

In the meantime, there are other things the two of them need to do.

* * *

He's been dreaming of flying away for longer than he's had the tattoo done. It's always been something he's wanted – an escape from his past – but the one thing he was certain that he'd never have.

He never dreamed that he'd find it in the arms of Harry Potter. Never dreamed that he'd manage to find it at all.

When he got it done, the artist had murmured something about wishes etched in skin being good luck. He'd dismissed it then, but maybe-

He's got rainbow wings on his back, and somehow he's learnt to fly.

* * *

**an: it's been so long since i wrote these two, and it feels brilliant to be back to them, to be honest.  
the fic is complete from draco's pov, so if harry's a bit oc, it's because his background in the five years hasn't been explained :)  
**

**i hope you guys like it - as always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)  
**


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